


New Year's With A Broken Family

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's New Year's, and Dean couldn't feel worse. When Cas arrives, he's hoping to fix things, if only a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year's With A Broken Family

**Author's Note:**

> Set around mid season 9, before the Mark of Cain and after Gadreel takes Sam over.

Dean had been broken for a long time. And now, he was staring in the face of loneliness. Kevin was dead. Sam was possessed by a shattered angel. And Cas was God knows where. No he thought, God doesn’t know. God abandoned us a long time ago. 

He stood drunken in his room, seventh bottle of beer lazily being swung around before Dean brought it to his lips and took a swig. The new year was coming in an hour, but he couldn’t care less. _New year, new me_ his mind echoed. He chuckled to himself, _Yeah..the me that was an alcoholic with nothing to live for._   
Dean knew he’d soon have to go after Sam, bring him back somehow. He just didn’t know where to start.

Crowley still sat in the dungeon; he had given up on trying to plea his way out, but not on the glimmering idea of becoming human. 

Dean thought about going in there to wish him a happy new year, what with being the only other being in the world that Dean could speak to. But once again, his mind came through, A year is an hour in the eye of a King. 

Before Dean could think again, he passed out, collapsing to the floor and spilling the half empty bottle next to him. The rim broke, and he later cut his arm on it while sleeping. 

——-

Ten hours later Dean awoke on his back in bed, the new year had come, and he had blood smeared across his shirt. 

There was a soothing smell wafting through his room. He stood up, dazed and oddly not-hungover, and walked out into the kitchen.

Castiel sat at the table, flicking his thumbs to turn the pancakes and bacon in a timely manner. When Dean walked in he twisted his wrist to turn off the fires and looked up expectantly.

"Hello, Dean." Cas looked down at the table once again, twisting the fire back on and resuming his routine. Dean raised his head slightly, lifting his eyebrows and standing with his mouth agape. 

"Ah..hey..Cas.." He didn’t know how to react to seeing his angel sitting before him as if his being there was a normal thing to expect. He continued, more stolid than he’d been moments earlier, "What are you doing here? I thought you were on the run since you got back your-"

"As I said. It’s not exactly my Grace.” He stood up to get plates before starting again. “I came because it’s the new year. Years make no difference to me as an angel, but when I was human time seemed to drag on. And apparently its a tradition?” He looked at the clock. 

_9:56 am_ it read. 

_124 more minutes,_ he thought to himself. 

The plates clinked as he added the breakfast and set them- along with two glasses of orange juice and a pitcher of syrup- down at the table. Cas looked at Dean again, “I am not bred to eat. But I did enjoy breakfast. So I will be joining you.”

Dean sat down, emotions set in a conflict of delight, confusion, and wariness. “Thanks Cas.”

"Oh you are welcome. I got rid of your hangover. They are not pleasant, I’ve come to realise." He cracked a smile as he bit on an end of bacon, swallowing it with a chug of orange juice. He preferred milk, but it’d gone spoiled when he checked. Castiel looked over to Dean, who was shoveling syrup slathered pancakes into his mouth, and bites of bacon in between. 

They finished eating almost hour later and Cas looked at the clock:

_10:32 am_ it read.

_Eight-eight more minutes,_ he thought, looking at Dean wash the dishes and walking over soon after to dry. 

——

After the dishes were done, Dean and Castiel sat in Dean’s room, an hour into one of Dean’s old western movies. Clint Eastwood had just shot somebody and scowled. When Cas looked over, Dean was attempting to imitate the same scowl. He looked at the clock.

_11:57 am_ it read. 

Three more minutes, Castiel thought.

He started counting down under his breath, not wanting to miss noon. He had already missed midnight. 

_Six, five, four, three, two…_

Castiel leaned over the full bed, pressing his lips against Dean’s for what seemed like eternity. 

After realising what was happening, Dean fell into the kiss, putting his arms around Castiel and making it last for as long as possible. 

When it was over they broke apart and just looked at each other. Dean started in. 

"What was that?" He breathed out. 

Cas gazed over him with his soft eyes, making Dean melt inside. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I missed midnight."


End file.
